


Here Comes the Rain Again

by artigiano



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: And Buck has feelings about it, Eddie was in the war, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt Eddie Diaz, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Christopher, Mentions of the FireFam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25761811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artigiano/pseuds/artigiano
Summary: It starts with a fire that threatens to devour Eddie and ends with a story Buck isn't sure he wants to hear.In which Eddie was in war and Buck has feelings about the thought of his best friend in danger.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 159





	Here Comes the Rain Again

**Author's Note:**

> I cannibalized one of my old Hawaii Five-0 stories posted on fanfiction.net, and reworked it for my new favorite couple (it's canon, no one can convince me differently). So really, credit for this is only about 45% present-me, and really mostly past-me. 
> 
> I tried to stick to medical facts as much as possible, but have definitely embellished and stretched the truth a bit. But hey, I'm not a doctor! I didn't even play one on tv. 
> 
> I've also apparently challenged myself to use Eurythmics songs as my titles, so we'll see how long that lasts!

Buck stared at the warehouse complex fire and couldn’t help but feel his eyebrows climb halfway up his forehead. They had dealt with large fires before, deadly fires, but this—the scale of it—was close to the worst he had seen. 

The scene was crowded, multiple stations working at putting out the blaze on the outside, multiple companies working on evacuating workers from the inside. They had gotten the call as soon as it had been elevated to a five-alarm fire, rolling up in the midst of ongoing operations. 

As they all hopped off the truck, Hen and Chim piling out from the aid car next to them, Buck stood close to Eddie’s side as they listened to Bobby’s instructions on where to go, where to help. “Hen, Chim, you two help the 183 with victims, jump in wherever you can. Buck, Eddie, the Battalion Chief wants us to help at the back warehouse, making sure there aren’t any employees left back there. They’re just trying to control from the outside back there, right now.” 

Sensing Eddie nod beside him, Buck added his own acknowledgement of Bobby’s command, trying to ignore the dread in his gut. He wasn’t nervous of the fire, wasn’t scared of getting hurt, but there was just something in him telling him that everything was going to go wrong. Something was going to happen, but he didn’t know what it was, and it unsettled him more than he liked, this anticipation of an unknown disaster. But he pushed these feelings away as he jogged behind Eddie to their assigned section, trying to focus on the task at hand. He wasn’t willing to let any anxiety put his best friend in any danger, wasn’t willing to be a liability. 

They moved in tandem through the doorway to the warehouse, smoke immediately cutting down visibility, flames licking up the walls. Buck immediately looked to Eddie, who nodded his head towards the offices down a hallway to their left. “Let’s check these out!” 

Eddie quickly moved in that direction, Buck right behind him, calling out to announce themselves. They received no response, but as soon as they entered an office, they both rushed over to a terrified woman hunched under her desk, her sobs almost lost to the sound of the fire. Eddie knelt down by her, Buck standing behind him. “Ma’am, we’re with the LAFD. We need to get you out of here—can you move?” 

She nodded shakily, but made no movement. “I-I’m too s-scared.” 

“It’s okay, we’ll get you out of here safely. Is there anyone else in here?” 

“I t-think my boss is next door. I was g-going to get him, but—” 

Eddie reached out and pulled her towards him, effectively cutting off whatever she had been starting to say. “I’ll get him out, okay? But first, my friend Buck here is going to get you out so you can get looked over, alright?” 

Buck whipped his head around to look at Eddie, even as he was instinctively reaching out to take the victim’s hand. “I’m not leaving you in here by yourself. The smoke is getting too thick!” 

He could see Eddie’s raised eyebrow through his mask, his unimpressed look. “We don’t have time to argue about this, and she needs to get out of here. I’ll be right behind you!” 

Buck wanted to argue more, but Eddie was already moving away from him, leaving him no choice but to start moving with the woman back towards the entrance. She was still crying, leaning into him, but thankfully was still moving under her own power. He walked with her back to where he knew Hen and Chim were working, wanting to hand the woman over and get back to Eddie, the feeling in his gut getting worse the longer they were separated. 

It wasn’t the normal sensation of loss he felt when he wasn’t around Eddie. It wasn’t the normal need to be around Eddie at all times that had followed Buck ever since he had realized that his feelings for Eddie had shifted from being platonic to being more. More than he always knew what to do with, more than he was confident that Eddie wanted. So he hadn’t said anything about how in love with the man he was, just tried to stay in Eddie’s orbit as much as possible, as much as was allowed. Which usually led to a sense of loss whenever he wasn’t there, but this…

This was tied to his bad feeling about this call, which only worsened as he jogged over to Bobby to check in, and saw him talking to a short man who looked decidedly shifty. As he came closer, he could hear Bobby’s frustration clearly in his voice, even coming in part way to the conversation. “—get that you’re trying to protect your job, Mr. Wilkes, but I have men in that back warehouse and I need to know if there’s anything in there I need to warn them about.” 

“Just one guy, Cap. I pulled an employee out while Eddie stayed back to get someone she said was still in there. I just wanted to let you know that I’m heading back in to help.” 

“Hang tight for a second, Buck,” Bobby started, continuing to talk even as Buck started instantly arguing. 

“No, Cap, I can’t just—” 

“—I’m still trying to get all the information—”

“—leave him in there—”

“Buck!” Bobby’s sharp tone instantly made Buck’s mouth shut, stomach plummeting at the fear of being in trouble. But Bobby just immediately turned back to the warehouse manager. “Mr. Wilkes, is there anything else being stored back there?” 

This time, it was clear Bobby wasn’t taking no for an answer, and Wilkes let out a small whine before responding. “The company hasn’t been doing so well, so we’ve been acting as a storehouse for other companies, okay? Providing storage cheaper than the regulated sites, for more controlled chemicals, but it’s obviously not above board. We just received a shipment of phosgene gas that we’ve been holding for a pesticide company, but it’s not flammable!” 

“You just told me that you have propane back there, an explosion can still release it into the air” Bobby responded, anger fighting with disbelief in his voice.

“It’s not in the same room,” Wilkes’ responded, but it was clear that even he could tell that the argument was completely asinine. 

“Bobby, you have to go let me help Eddie, we have to pull him out now.” Buck didn’t care that the desperation was dripping from his words.

“You said he was right behind you. I’ll radio him, I’m not risk—”

**_BOOM_ ** . 

Whatever Bobby had been about to say was cut off, and most of the conversation around them seemed to cease for a moment as everyone turned to look at where the explosion had occurred. 

Which just happened to be the back warehouse where Buck had left Eddie only minutes before. 

Everything in Buck wanted to move, but he was frozen to the spot, locked in his body from shock. He could hear the wail of the warehouse manager next to him, but couldn’t turn to look at him, eyes stuck on the roiling plume of fire and smoke that was now filling the air. 

It wasn’t until he heard Bobby’s voice both next to him and crackling through his radio that he even came back to himself. “Diaz, do you copy? Diaz, respond!” 

Nothing but static came back, and that had Buck moving, running, flying back to where Eddie was. He thought Bobby was going to stop him, but this time, he could steps pounding the pavement behind him and instinctively knew that it was his captain running too. Before he could make it the final 200 feet, though, he felt a jerk on his turnout coat, and it forced him to come to a stop. “Bobby, no, we have to keep going!” 

“I know that, Buck, but real fast—we need to put on our masks and start the oxygen  _ now _ . If there’s phosgene in the air, we need to be on the respirators now, okay? We can’t help Eddie if we’re sick too.” 

Buck was already nodding along, already covering his face, already switching on the oxygen, not wanting to admit that he’d been ready to run into the fire without any protection just from needing to get to Eddie. But he did as he was told, and waited not a second more before rushing back into the building he had been in only minutes ago.

The access to the outside meant that some of the smoke had cleared, but the flames were higher, and many of the interior walls—and most of the exterior—had been blown apart from the force of the explosion. Buck’s pulse immediately skyrocketed with the force of his anxiety, not even wanting to think of the state he could possibly find Eddie in, but he pushed that away as best he could while moving back down the hallway from earlier. “Eddie! Eddie, answer me!” 

“Diaz! Diaz, call out!” 

Buck was just about to yell out again when he suddenly could hear the high-pitched whine of a PASS device sounding off as he moved further into the space. “His PASS!” He yelled out, immediately pushing forward through the rubble. He’d only taken a few steps forward, vaguely recognizing the room he’d been in with Eddie earlier, when he spotted a pair of boots through the next half-standing door. A half-standing door that was next to a not-standing wall, which was surrounded by shattered remnants of large gas canisters.

He breathed out Eddie’s name too quietly for Bobby to hear, rushing to drop by his best friend’s side. There was a man lying next to Eddie, clearly dead from a terrible head wound, and though he knew he would feel guilty about it later, Buck barely spared the man a second thought past his initial assessment as he turned to Eddie. 

Eddie, who was unconscious. 

Eddie, who wasn’t wearing a mask, as it had clearly been knocked off in his fall.

Eddie, who wasn’t wearing a mask in a room full of toxic gas

Without another thought, Buck was already moving his hand to rip off his own mask to put on Eddie’s face, but had barely moved his hand an inch before Bobby’s hand wrapped around his in an iron grip. “No, you can’t be breathing this in too. Get him out of here right now, I’ll be right behind you with the other victim.” 

Wanting to argue but unwilling to waste another second with Eddie trapped in here, Buck knelt down and grabbed Eddie’s arms to pull the other man over his own shoulder, movement finally cutting off the whine of the PASS device. He couldn’t help but shoot a relieved grin in Bobby’s direction as the movement caused a groan to rumble out of Eddie’s mouth. After a thumbs up, Bobby hauled the body on the ground over his own shoulder, and together they moved out of the fiery remains of the building.

Once they were back outside, Buck went to start walking back towards the front where Hen and Chim were, everything in him itching to get Eddie checked out, when Bobby held him back. “Set him down here. We’ll all have to be decontaminated before we go back up there. He’ll need to be washed off and out of his turnout gear before we can transport him to the hospital.” 

“We don’t even know what injuries he has! He could have internal bleeding, or his lungs could already be—”

“Phosgene gas doesn’t start affecting the body typically until 24 hours after exposure. We most likely won’t know if there’s anything wrong until tomorrow, but we can’t go up there covered in a hazardous material. You know that.”

“Bobby—” Even Buck could hear the frantic undertones to his voice.

“Set him down, Buck, we’ll do a quick exam and get him to the hospital as fast as we can.” 

Reluctantly, Buck did as he was told, not even able to feel relief as Eddie’s eyes started slowly blinking open. All he could think about was the fact that Eddie had been exposed to a toxic gas, a toxic gas that they wouldn’t know the impacts of for over a day. The dread settled in his stomach again as he knelt down by Eddie’s side, perversely almost wishing that his friend had suffered a burn or something visible. Any other injury that gave Buck something to  _ do _ , something to focus on fixing. This was unknown, uncontrollable, unstoppable. 

\---

When Buck finally made it to the hospital hours later, tired and worried, he’d barely been able to focus on the rest of his shift, so consumed with worry. Their shift, and the fire, had started early that morning, so Buck had a few hours before he needed to be sure Christopher had other arrangements for after school, which was at least one small weight off his shoulders. 

He didn’t have to work too hard to find Eddie once he got to the hospital, seeing as soon as he came in, a nurse came towards him, eying his uniform. “Are you Evan Buckley?” At Buck’s quick nod, she continued. “I was Mr. Diaz’s admitting nurse, and he said you might be coming in. He’s been moved to a room on the second floor for observation. You can follow me up there, if you’d like.” Buck nodded again, suddenly too anxious for words, and walked behind her diligently to where his best friend was being held. Finally, though he found his voice. “He, uh, he wasn’t really conscious the last time I saw him. Is he okay? I should be cleared to be updated, I’m his—

“Emergency contact, I know,” the nurse finished with a smile. “He said that, and he also gave us permission to update you when you got here. He’s got a moderate concussion and a couple of broken ribs, and he’s being kept for observation, but he’s doing well all things considered.” He let out a quick sigh of relief, trying to focus on the positive news for now, hoping that it would stay that way. After an elevator ride and a short walk down a hallway, the nurse stopped in front of a closed door, giving him another kind smile. “He’s just through here. I’m sure he’ll be okay, Mr. Buckley.”

Buck could only smile tightly in response, and after taking a deep breath in preparation, he pushed the door open. 

Eddie was sitting up in the bed, a nasal cannula already strung up, lying placidly against his hospital gown. “It’s just a precaution,” he remarked immediately, clearly noting the panic on Buck’s face. “They’ve already sent me to have x-rays and an MRI, and they’re running blood tests, but there’s not much they can do unless I start showing symptoms.”

Buck didn’t say anything immediately, just took the seat next to the bed. “There’s no antidote? There has to be something.”

Eddie just shook his head, wincing as the movement clearly jarred his head. “No cure for phosgene exposure, just treat the symptoms as they come up. There’s really not much to do, other than just sit around and wait, so you can go home if you like. I know you’re tired.

“Yeah, it’s cute that you think I’m going anywhere, Eds. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He paused for a moment, then pushed on. “How’re you doing?”

“I just told you, right now—”

“No, no, I mean…” He stopped for a moment, trying to figure out if he even had any chance of Eddie answering his question. “Anxiety-wise, I guess.”

For a half a second, fear flashed through Eddie’s eyes before his calm demeanor was back, and Buck guessed the answer he got would be vague and evasive before Eddie’s words confirmed it. “I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse. Ask me again when symptoms start showing up and you might get a different response.”

“It’s okay to be scared, you know. You told me that after the truck bombing...” he trailed off, old fingers of fear wrapping around his throat at the memory. “Anyway, I’m just saying I’m here for you if you need anything. Speaking of which, do you need me to call Abuela? Or Carla?”

Eddie shook his head, face still guarded, fingers toying with the oxygen tubing almost unconsciously. “No, I already called them both. Carla is going to take Christopher for the night, and get him to school in the morning. But I’m serious, Buck, you should go, really. Go relax. Things here are going to be pretty boring.”

“I told you, I’m not leaving. Now, find something good on TV.” 

And things were boring for a while. After mindlessly watching the television for so long, both men had started talking about the fire, about their friends, about Christopher, about everything and nothing. Eddie had just started telling Buck about something ridiculous one of his sisters had texted him when he suddenly stopped and coughed. Buck sat up straighter, hands clenching into nervous fists on his lap instinctively. “Eddie?”

He was met with another cough. “I’m just—” Wracking coughs stopped the sentence and Buck watched in horror as the next cough brought up some sort of pink liquid that Eddie quickly wiped away in a tissue. Buck leaned forward and started pressing the call button repeatedly, not wanting to leave Eddie’s side but also needing a medical professional in here  _ now _ . “I—I can’t breathe, Buck. I feel like I’m,” coughs broke in before Eddie could continue, leaving Buck to fill the sudden gap in conversation.

“You feel like what?"

“Like I’m drowning.” Though his tone was calm, Buck could plainly read the fear in Eddie’s eyes now, and could understand. Eddie had been trained to remain calm under pressure, both in the army and as a firefighter, but in this case… in this case, all the training in the world wasn’t going to save him.

“Just hang in there, yeah? Everything is going to be okay.”

Moments later, Eddie’s doctor came in, nurses trailing close behind. “What’s going on, Mr. Diaz?”

“C-can’t breathe too w-well.”

“Okay, let me take a listen.” The stethoscope must have been cold because Eddie flinched as it touched his skin. “Are you having any other symptoms?”

“He coughed up pink foam,” Buck added, saving his best friend the trouble of speaking. The doctor’s frown at this piece of information did nothing to ease his worry though, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing Eddie’s hand. He had half a moment of wondering if he’d overstepped, but then Eddie squeezed his hand back like a lifeline, and he stopped questioning it. 

“It sounds like a pulmonary edema, but we’ll want some scans to confirm it. Carol?”

One of the nurses came forward with a wheelchair and Buck was grateful for the efficiency in which Eddie was quickly moved to the chair, IV following, and then was wheeled away. He was less grateful, though, when he was left all by himself in the hospital room with nothing but his own negative thoughts for company. He knew that he owed Bobby and the others an update, though, and that thankfully ate up most of his time that he would have otherwise been waiting in silence. He was just finishing the phone call, promising consistent updates, when Eddie was finally wheeled back in.

His best friend definitely looked a little worse, and had returned with a full oxygen mask instead of the nasal cannula from before. His movements back into the bed were slow, and seemed only to wind him further, so Buck immediately grabbed his hand in support once again. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said emphatically, knowing the platitude was useless but feeling the need to say it anyway. “You’re doing fine.” He was proud that his voice sounded steady at all, because inside he was a mess. While he constantly pushed Eddie to feel his feelings, to share them, to not be scared about being vulnerable, it would be wrong of Buck to say that he wasn’t used to an Eddie who pushed through things with hardly a wince. But this was different, he knew it in his bones. 

But there was still an attitude lurking in Eddie, apparently, because Buck got a snort in response and slightly muffled words from under the mask. “This is your definition of fine?”

“You’re not dead, so yes!” He snapped back without thinking, guilt washing over him when Eddie flinched ever so slightly. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that—you’re going to be fine, okay?”

Eddie just tilted his head back against the pillows, breathing in short, shallow gasps. At that moment, the doctor strode back into the room, scans in hand. “Well, based on these, you do indeed have a pulmonary edema, Mr. Diaz.”

Eddie nodded weakly, still focusing on breathing, but nonetheless seeming to understand exactly what the doctor was talking about. Buck, on the other hand, had plenty of questions he needed that answered. “What does that mean, exactly?”

After confirming with Eddie that it was okay to talk to Buck, the doctor turned to him. “Well, the gas has started to react with Mr. Diaz’s body. The—” The doctor was cut off suddenly by the alarms that started blaring throughout the room. Instantly, Buck turned around to look at his best friend, only to be horrified to see that the rise and fall of his chest had stopped. He stepped forward, out of instinct more than anything else, but was pushed out of the way by the sudden onslaught of medical personnel rushing into the room.

Buck watched as the doctor started intubating, watched in horror as CPR was started, watched with his heart in his throat as the paddles were readied and charged. He jumped as a nurse suddenly touched his arm. “Sir? It would be best if you waited outside.” He nodded numbly, the display before him robbing him of his words or will to fight to remain in the room. He let the nurse lead him to the floor’s waiting room, and then pulled out his phone to spread the word and make sure that somebody from the 118 came to sit vigil with him.

\---

When the doctor finally came to the waiting room almost an hour later, the waiting room was close to capacity. Bobby, Hen, and Chim and all joined him, and both Eddie’s grandmother and aunt were also sitting by his side. They all sat up straighter when the doctor walked in the room, and before the man in scrubs could even take a seat across from them, the questions were coming out of Buck’s mouth. “How is he? What happened?”

“Right now, Mr. Diaz is in a medically induced coma and on a ventilator.”

“I don’t understand,” Isabel responded, voice not shaking the way Buck’s would have if he’d been the one to ask the question. “He was fine not an hour ago, what has happened?”

“As I started to explain earlier to Mr. Buckley, Mr. Diaz is suffering from a pulmonary edema due to his exposure from the phosgene gas. The toxin is preventing gas exchange in the lungs, which causes a fluid buildup to occur. The pink foam you saw him cough up earlier was this fluid, mixed with blood. Now in conjunction with that, the phosgene is also affecting his heart, which is what caused the cessation of breathing. We’ve placed him in the coma and on the ventilator in order to help his lungs and heart because he simply isn’t getting enough oxygen.”

“And there’s nothing else you can do to reverse the effects?” Pepa asked.

“Unfortunately no. All we’re able to do is treat the symptoms as they crop up, and in this case, our best course of action is full sedation to avoid him struggling or fighting against the vent.”

“I’m a bit confused, though.” Bobby broke his silence, worry clearly shining through in his tone. “I thought symptoms of phosgene poisoning didn’t start until 24 hours after exposure.”

“In most cases, that’s true. However, in cases of exposure to high concentrations of the gas, symptoms can start anywhere from two to six hours after the attack. Although the severity of the symptoms is worse, the silver lining is that there’s no more waiting or drawing out of the effects. If Mr. Diaz can pull through it now, he should make a full recovery.

“Realistically,” Buck finally asked quietly, “what  _ are _ his chances of pulling through?”

An agitated look appeared on the doctor’s face at this, doing nothing to quell Buck’s nerves. “Normally for someone of his age and health, I would say relatively good. However, due to an old injury, I am more concerned.”

“What old injury?” There was so much that Buck didn’t know about Eddie’s past, and he hated not knowing. Not only because he constantly craved details on every part of Eddie’s life, but also for situations like this. He may have loved surprises, but not like this. 

“Well, there was some scarring in the lungs that showed up on the CT, and based off his records, it appears as though Mr. Diaz was treated for what is commonly called ‘war lung’ at some point. This was probably caused by exposure to a dust storm.”

“Like the Dust Bowl?” Buck asked.

“Precisely, Mr Buckely. This clearly hasn’t impacted or impeded his actions as a firefighter, and he’s probably never noticed any difference in his lung capacity. But the old scarring from this is one more thing his lungs have to fight against in their effort to heal. I’m still relatively hopeful he’ll pull through, but you do need to prepare yourself for a worse outcome because that is, unfortunately, very possible. If there’s anyone else you think Mr. Diaz might want here, I’d call them now. Just in case.” The doctor stood up, leaving a shell-shocked room behind him. “You’ll be able to see him as soon as he’s moved to the ICU, but they do have stricter visiting times, as I’m sure you’re aware. Even if you’re not there, though, the nurses will update you regularly.” The doctor was almost through the door, already moving onto someone else, but then stopped at the last second. “We’re going to do everything possible to save him. We’d do everything regardless, but he’s a first responder and we’re all grateful for that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my other patients.”

As soon as he left, the silence of the waiting room was deafening, and Buck thought for a minute that he’d have to scream just to break the oppressive feeling. But he reined himself in, instead dropping his head into his hands and taking a deep breath. “Shit,” he whispered, feeling worse and more hopeless than before. “Eddie never does anything halfway, I guess.”

“He’ll make it,” Isabel responded, her stern expression clearly stating that Eddie had no other choice. “He’s not going to give up. He’ll fight it because that’s just who he is.”

“And he’ll always fight to come back to Christopher, you know that, Buck,” Bobby added, a firm squeeze to his shoulder underpinning those words.

“I sincerely hope you’re right,” Buck said with a sigh, before adding, “And then I’m going to kill him for this.”

“Get in line,  _ mijo, _ ” Isabel added, making everyone laugh a little. 

Hearing Abuela be so confident helped buoy Buck’s spirits while everyone took their turn visiting Eddie, but once everyone had left, once Buck was the last one eeking out those extra minutes during visiting hours, that confidence started to leave him. He couldn’t help but be terrified that this would be the end, and he wasn’t ready. He’d never be ready, but there was still so much he hadn’t said to Eddie, so much life they hadn’t gotten to experience together. Alone, with only the whirring of the ventilator for company, he felt that sick desperation from earlier settle into his bones, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing the man he loved.

“You’ve got to prove me wrong here, babe,” he said quietly, holding onto Eddie’s slack hand. “You have got to fight this and show me that you’re the tough son of a bitch I believe you are.”

\--

Four days had passed with no change in Eddie’s condition. Buck had been at the hospital all the hours he could, helping to take care of Christopher when he wasn’t. He’d taken the days off, with Bobby’s support, so that he could stay at the Diaz home, cooking dinner for Chris, putting him to bed, and taking him to school in the morning, and the hospital as soon as he got out. Trying to keep things as normal as possible for the young boy who was increasingly quiet and withdrawn with worry. All the hours in between, Buck spent at Eddie’s bedside.

The doctor kept optimistically pointing out that his best friend was still alive and healing, but despite the truth there, Buck couldn’t help but feel his spirits sink. It seemed like every day that Eddie was kept on the ventilator was just one more day that he was closer to not waking up at all. The fear of having to bury Eddie was almost too much, and Buck hated this terrible limbo with every fiber of his being.

Finally, two days later—halfway through which Eddie seemed to take a turn for the worse, requiring defibrillation to restore a normal heart rhythm—the older man started showing some signs of improvement. For the first time since the accident, Eddie started to have a little bit of color in his cheeks, and stopped looking worse than some of the bodies they had seen. The latest scans had shown a cleaner image, finally, and the doctor decided that they could finally stop the sedation and remove the vent. When they heard that, Buck thought the smiles would break all their faces.

And so it was with trepidation for nearly a full week after the warehouse fire that Buck had been waiting in Eddie’s room, waiting at home, waiting in the hospital cafeteria for the nightmare to be over and to get the call that Eddie was awake. And when the waiting was finally over, Buck wasn’t even there. 

Of course his best friend would choose to wake up the moment that Buck had left to run home and shower, leaving Buck feeling not only selfishly that he had missed out, but also like a terrible best friend. Even knowing that Eddie didn’t see it that way, would never see it that way, didn’t stop the small spurt of anger that flared up inside of him when the nurse had called to give him the good news. He’d immediately called Abuela to let her know, her relief palpable through the phone, his relief at her volunteering to pick Christopher up from school and bring him to the hospital—meaning one less detour for Buck, meaning one less stop being seeing Eddie—hopefully more well hidden. 

By the time he finally got to the hospital, hair still wet, and spoke to the doctor about Eddie’s prognosis ( _ “All good, I promise. We’ve already taken him for some new scans, and everything has healed how it should. I don’t foresee any long term scarring in his lungs or any lasting damage. He’s got much better air movement than he did before, and though I’d like to keep him for monitoring for the next few days just as a precaution, I don’t see any reason why Mr. Diaz won’t be able to go home soon.” _ ), Eddie had been awake for almost an hour, and Buck was counting every minute that he’d lost.

As Buck pushed his way through the door into Eddie’s room and was met with a bright, though tired smile, all of his frustration and fear melted away. He rushed over to the bedside, dropping in what had become  _ his _ chair, squeezing Eddie’s hand when he got close enough. “Welcome back, Eds.” 

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie replied with a weak smile. “Christopher?” 

Buck immediately knew what Eddie was asking. “He’s doing as well as can be expected. He’s been scared and worried, but your grandma is on her way to his school to pick him up, and I know seeing you awake will help, obviously.” He paused a moment to let Eddie take that in, and waited until the other man nodded before continuing. “How’re you feeling?”

Eddie shrugged slightly, clearing his throat before responding. “Scratchy. It seems like no matter how many ice chips I have, my throat just won’t stop being dry.”

Buck nodded, squeezing Eddie’s hand again comfortingly. “Well, you’ve had a tube down your throat for much too long, in my opinion. I’m sure it’ll go away soon.”

Eddie was already reaching for the cup on the bedside table to refresh himself. “That’s what the doctor said.”

“What else did the doctor tell you?”

A questioning look was shot his way, ice chips momentarily forgotten about. “There’s a question in there somewhere, I’m just not sure what you’re looking for.”

Buck sighed, fidgeted slightly, and then just pressed forward. “Did he talk to you about your lungs at all?” At Eddie’s expectant gaze, he elaborated. “Earlier, when they first had to put you on the ventilator,” and damn it if saying that wasn’t still harder than he liked, “the doctor said part of the reason you were having so much trouble breathing was because you already had some scarring in your lungs that was making the edema worse. Called it war lung, said it was from breathing in sand from a sandstorm. He said you might not even have known you had it.”

“Ah. That.” The vet’s fingers rubbed at a spot on his chest for a minute, eyes closed in clear deliberation, and there was a moment of silence before he continued. “Yeah, the doctor talked to me about it, and no I didn’t know about any scarring, but it wasn’t exactly a surprise either.”

“What happened?”

“We’d been picking up some wounded soldiers a couple of klicks down the road and this storm suddenly came up on us.” And then, suddenly, somehow, Eddie was opening up about something he had experienced in the military without being prodded, without being begged, without excessive coercion taking place. He just started talking, despite his rough throat, and Buck didn’t dare say anything to stop him. “Big dust storms happened a lot over there, and they’re like nothing you can even imagine. You can see it coming from a mile away, and normally that gives you enough time to get something over your nose and mouth, or get inside so you wait it out, but this time…

“We saw it coming, but there was nowhere to hide from it where we were. We thought we could make it back just in time, but then the truck had engine problems and we were stalled for too long. We had just driven into camp when the whole thing overtook us. In that situation, sand blows everywhere, and it completely blocks out all the light—you can’t see your hand in front of you, can only feel every inch of unprotected skin being pelted.”

As Eddie was talking, Buck could picture it all. Could picture the sand and the darkness, the fear of the danger the storm represented still there in his best friend’s voice. And as much as he was always clamoring to hear about all of Eddie’s past, as much as he always wanted to know exactly what Eddie’s life was like before he came to LA, he suddenly didn’t want to hear anymore. It was all unexpectedly too real and too much. He didn’t want to imagine his best friend as anything other than a firefighter, safe in this city right here in this moment, didn’t want to be forced to relive this event with his friend. It was almost nonsensical, completely contrary to everything he had ever felt or had said before, but the anxiety hit and he just couldn’t bear to hear anymore.

So without another thought, Buck suddenly stood up, interrupting whatever Eddie had been saying, and stammered out an excuse. “I uh, I have to go. I’m so sorry, but I have to get back to the station, I just remembered they asked me to fill out another statement about the, uh, the fire.” 

“Oh.” Hurt flashed through Eddie’s eyes briefly, but then his face became a careful neutral mask. “Yeah, sure, of course. I’m sorry, I was rambling anyway. I guess I’ll see you later?"

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” And then, without another word or look back, Buck fled from the room, making it down the hallway as fast as he could until he reached a secluded corner, where he could lean back and focus on breathing. Deep calming breaths that helped him get the image of the man he loved struggling for air, both in Afghanistan in the midst of a raging storm and now in a hospital bed where he had been drowning on dry land, out of his mind. It took a while though, and it was a few minutes before he felt the shaking in his hands stop, before he felt in control of himself again.

And when that control came back, Buck realized what a huge mess he’d made.

Eddie never opened up. Not willingly, not without incentive, and not without almost literally pulling teeth. Buck knew the number that the war, his relationship with Shannon, her death, and a whole host of barely touched on issues with his parents had done on his psyche, knew the Army had bred out much of what emotional openness was left in the man. Buck knew that sharing had always been hard for Eddie, and that everything he had been through in his life only made talking about his feelings that much harder. It had been a barrier in their partnership in the beginning, back in the early days of their friendship. Buck had spent years trying to break those old habits and encourage his best friend to talk about things like this, for the sake of his mental health if nothing else, and it  _ had _ gotten better over time. Their mutual trust had been built long ago and was solidified time and time again through their shared experiences, both the good and the bad. Eddie was now finally,  _ finally _ really starting to voluntarily open up, if not to everyone, at least to Buck.

And now, the one time that Buck hadn’t even asked, the one time that the older man had volunteered something, trusting Buck to listen… He’d just walked away.

Eyes closed, head still tipped back in defeat, Buck could easily picture the wounded expression in Eddie’s eyes when Buck had spit out his flimsy excuse, and the guilt and regret cut at him. He let his head fall forward, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, his other resting on his hip, thinking about his options. He could wait around for an hour, play into his charade and give them both time and space, or he could march back into that room and just take Eddie’s disappointment and mend the situation as best he could. The cowardly part of him desperately wanted to take the former option, but he knew that Eddie deserved better than that. Eddie always deserved better than what he was given in life, and dammit if Buck wasn’t going to be the one to let him down this time. So he squared his shoulders and forced himself to walk back down the hallway to his best friend’s room, pausing only to take one last deep breath before pushing his way inside.

Eddie’s eyes immediately opened, neutral mask slipping back into place as soon as he saw it was Buck. “You’re back.” It was both a statement and a question, his tone wary.

“I called and rescheduled.” It was a lie and they both knew it, but thankfully Eddie didn’t call him on it. “I’m sorry I had to leave like that—I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” Another lie, but closer to the truth this time and with that Buck moved forward to reoccupy the chair he had abruptly abandoned. “You were in the middle of telling me about the storm.”

Eddie’s expression was still guarded, and his gaze was on something in the corner of the room rather than Buck. “I think you pretty much got the gist of it.

And here, this was what Buck was afraid of, so he leaned forward and took his partner’s hand in his own, reestablishing contact. “I’d like to hear the rest.”

He could feel Eddie tense, could almost feel the indecision radiating from him. “I’m not sure you do.”

“I won’t run away this time, Eds,” Buck said quietly, eyes down. “I swear.”

Eddie just shook his head like he didn’t want to hear it, but he nevertheless left in hand in Buck’s. There was a moment of silence, and when finally Eddie spoke, his voice was rough. “This is exactly why I don’t tell anyone about my life over there. Why I don’t tell civilians, I mean. It’s one thing to know in the abstract that I experienced something, but having to actually hear about it—it’s different. And it’s hard. Most times it’s too much for people who haven’t been there, who don’t understand. You know me as a firefighter. You didn’t know me when I was deployed, you weren’t waiting for me to come home, and civvies that meet guys like me afterward… Sometimes, it’s hard enough to hear shit like this from another soldier, so I know that it’s even harder for you to deal with it not having served.” As though he could sense Buck’s argument, Eddie continued quickly. “You serve your country, just not like that. Being overseas, seeing what I have—it’s a lot to handle having those stories just dumped on you. I’m not blaming you or judging you for leaving. My head and my history can be a dark place, and I know that. I have other vets I can call if I need to get something off my chest, and I didn’t think about it when I started talking, and for that I’m sorry.”

That got Buck’s attention, and his head snapped up immediately. “Did you seriously just apologize for telling your best friend something that happened to you? Seriously? No. Just no. You do not get to apologize because you didn’t do anything wrong. I made excuses and left, and I should have just been honest.” He paused for a moment, and then decided just to go for full honesty, because awkward emotional conversations aside, it needed to happen. “And yeah, you’re right, it was a lot to handle and this last week has been particularly stressful because I watched you stop breathing and almost die, so hearing about another time when you couldn’t breathe sort of tipped me over the edge. I’m a little sensitive to the idea of you in any sort of peril right now. But that being said, you  _ never _ have to hold yourself back around me, got it? I’m not just some normal civilian, Eds. I’ve been through the ringer with you, so you can sure as hell tell me about a sandstorm that you got caught in—or anything else that you’ve ever seen or done. I just lost my cool for a moment.” He stopped, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of Eddie’s hand, expertly avoiding the IV. “So please, continue.”

Buck’s tone brooked no room for argument, but Eddie came up with one anyway. “The stuff from my Army days is different though. I was different. It’s not a matter of you being through insane fires with me or going through horrible experiences and injuries, it’s just...there aren’t good days, any days off when you’re in war. I may not have been on the front lines, but there’s still not a break or an end of shift. It’s different. It’s not fair to expect you to listen to that.”

“Bullshit. I’m your best friend. I’m expected to listen to everything you have to say.”

“Buck, I’m not blaming you. I shouldn’t have even gotten into that with you without preparing you at least or—”

“Because watching you turn blue and stop breathing in a hospital isn’t enough preparation for listening to your story where I know you come out of it alive?” After a moment of shocked silence following his outburst, Buck continued. “Are you going to finish telling me what happened or not?”

“Buck—”

“I’m not going to let you change my mind, got it? Yes, I freaked out for a little bit. Yes, I had to go outside and calm my nerves. But I’m not made of glass, Eddie. You and me, telling each other things we don’t tell other people, supporting each other—that’s what our life is about. And that storm is something that happened to you, that affected your life, that has a direct bearing on what is happening in both of our lives now. I’m prepared now, okay? Get on with it.”

Whether it was Buck’s self-righteous and self-assured tone or that he was simply too tired to fight anymore, Eddie let out a huge sigh and the escaped air seemed to take any resistance with it. He tiredly rubbed at one of his eyes for a second, almost stalling but not quite, and then gave a small shrug. “Fine. If you really want to know.”

And so Eddie finished the story. He spoke of not being able to find their way into the tents because of the darkness, of not being able to see anything past the headlights of the Humvee. With his scratched throat, he told Buck about how his men and he had finally made it into shelter by crawling on their hands and knees, heads down, feeling the ground as they moved and using their memory to guide them. He shared that he didn’t feel like he could take a clear breath for what felt like hours and how one of the men had apparently gotten sand in his lungs, causing an infection that eventually had him on a plane stateside to be treated. How he carried an extra scarf and goggles around with him for months afterwards, just in case he got caught outside in one of those storms again; how he had never stopped being just the slightest bit terrified of that element of nature.

Through it all, Buck sat by Eddie’s side, taking a few deep breaths when he needed to in order to calm himself down as flashbacks of the man he loved gasping for air played in his mind. Whenever that happened, Eddie would stop, make an excuse of taking a drink of water before continuing, letting Buck collect himself with as much dignity as he could.

At the end of Eddie’s story, his voice was rough, but sharing seemed to have lifted something that maybe even the man himself didn’t know needed lifting. After a moment of quiet, Buck rearranged himself in the chair and at first simply said, “I’m sorry you went through that.” 

Eddie shrugged, clearly going for nonchalant, but the movement clearly jarred his broken ribs and the grimace broke through the facade. “War is hell, you know? Even the parts they don’t advertise on the brochure.” 

“I know. I mean, I don’t know, but I mean.” Buck cut himself off, trying not to blush over his fumbling. “You know what I mean. Anyway, thank you for telling me. For trusting me with that part of you.” 

Eddie looked at him, confusion written subtly through his expression. “I thought you knew by now that I trust you with all the parts of myself. Even the parts of I don’t talk about.” 

There was something about the way Eddie said that that suddenly made Buck want to take the step that he’d been holding back from for so long. “I was so worried, Eddie. From the moment that explosion hit and we found out about the phosgene, I felt like I was the one that couldn’t breathe. It was like that night at the well all over again. A-and then, with the vent, I was so scared that I was going to lose you. Lose you before…” He trailed off and glanced down, his courage failing him at the last moment. 

But like always, Eddie was there to catch him. He squeezed Buck’s hand, waiting until the younger man glanced up before speaking, and all Buck could see in his eyes was warmth and support and  _ love _ . “Before what, Buck?” 

So taking a deep breath, Buck finished his sentence. “Before I got to tell you that I love you. That I’m in love with you.” 

Eddie’s smile might have been tired, but it was possibly the most beautifully radiant thing Buck had ever seen. “Yeah? You mean that.” 

Buck couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t mean it.” And then the courage deserted him, and he started rambling. “ A-and, if you don’t feel the same, it’s okay, I mean, I know that I can be a lot, even Abby said that, that she was losing herself—”

“Buck, no.” He had dropped his eyes at some point, but at Eddie’s intense tone, he quickly met the older man’s gaze. “You—god, you have no idea, Buck. Abby’s full of shit, okay? She had absolutely no excuse for saying that, she doesn’t just get to lay her shitty behavior at her feet. And more than that…” Eddie trailed off, and Buck watched as he brushed his thumb over the back of Buck’s hand, pink rising into his cheeks. “I do feel the same, Buck. If I’d been confident enough that you felt this way, I would have told you ages ago. I... I find myself with you, okay? And I’m not entirely sure that I can get any more cliché at this point without quoting Jerry Maguire, so please just. I love you too, am in love with you too. So please, before my son gets here and we’re not alone again for who knows how long, please just kiss me. I need you to kiss me because I think I’ve needed to kiss you for years now, and I love you too.” 

This time, it was Buck’s smile that was so bright it could power the entire hospital. “Okay, Eds, I can kiss you now.” 

So he took a deep breath, and he did. 

\-- _end_


End file.
